The Treasure of the Penelope
by ucsbdad
Summary: Major Rick Rodgers, US Army, is joining his girlfriend, Dr. Kate Beckett, on an archeological dig in North Carolina. What could possibly go wrong? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"Ninety days?"

Dr. Fields nodded.

"Ron, no one gets ninety days convalescent leave for some shrapnel wounds."

Dr. Fields held out a sheet of paper.

"But there you have it, ninety days of convalescent leave, all signed off on."

"But…."Major Rick Rodgers began.

"But, the Army thinks nothing's too good for the man who killed Omar ibn Muktar."

Rick shook his head. "I didn't kill Muktar. I didn't even fire my weapon. I didn't even know who he was or that he was anywhere near. I was just going after some empty-headed archeology student who decided to walk on the wild side."

"The way the Army sees it, you were in command, therefore you are responsible for his death. The CIA, the Brits, the French, the Israelis and God knows who else have been after him for years. You not only killed him, but you brought in enough intel to take down huge parts of the Islamic State's finances. No wonder you're getting the Silver Star."

"What? I might get an end of tour Bronze Star with the V for valor device, but a Silver Star?" Rick's eyes narrowed. "Do you know something I don't, _Captain_ Fields?"

Fields smiled. "As you know, I play golf every Wednesday with Colonel O'Neill, the Catholic chaplain for 18th Airborne Corps. Normally we play with Colonel Rupertus and his wife, Jeannie. He commands the 44th Medical Brigade here at Bragg, but his poor wife tore her left ACL. She can hardly walk, let alone play golf, but she should be fine if she…"

"Is this going someplace or are you just hoping I'll forget my question?" Rick interrupted.

"I'm getting to that. Colonel O'Neill and I have been playing with Major General Andrus…"

"The Deputy commander of Special Ops?" Rick groaned.

"Yes, him and a Colonel Yamaga. I'm not sure what he does."

"No one knows what Yamaga does. It's so secret that he probably doesn't even know what he does." Rick moaned. "And you've been talking to them about me?"

Fields nodded. "Yes. And for a man who writes best selling novels, your military reports are rather…drab. Naturally, they've been quite interested in my insider's look at your actions in Niger. They've been very impressed. Extremely impressed, if I do say so myself."

"I'm surprised that you didn't have me up for a Congressional Medal of Honor." Rick said sarcastically.

"Apparently you have to throw yourself on a live hand grenade or something for one of those."

"Even so, that's hardly a reason to give me ninety days convalescent leave."

"It is if the Army doesn't want the CIA to grab you away from them."

"The CIA? How would they even know about me?"

Fields smirked. "One of my med school buddies works for the Agency. I have no idea what he's doing for them, but knowing the CIA he's probably building some genetically modified super spies. Anyway, I just happened to be talking to him and…."

Rick held up his hands. "Okay, that's enough. Is there anything else I should know about _my_ career?"

"Just this." He handed Rick a form. "You have a lot of accumulated leave. You need to take thirty days leave."

"There's no way the Army will allow me… " Rick stopped. Fields was smiling. "It's already been approved, hasn't it?"

"Of course. All you need to do is sign it."

Rick sighed and signed. "Are you trying to be the first doctor to make Army Chief of Staff?"

"I'm too late. General Leonard Wood, MD, was Chief of Staff back in 1910." Fields smiled. "You're in pretty good health, so why don't you go home to Kate and give her the good news."

When Rick entered his quarters, he could hear the very soft tap-tap of Kate working on her computer. But, as soon as she heard the door closing behind Rick, she stopped and ran to him. Kate threw her arms around his neck and gave him a scorching kiss.

"Are you all right? What did Fields say?"

"He said I'm in pretty good shape for the shape I'm in."

Kate glared at him and lightly punched his chest.

"Stinker."

"I'm in good shape. How's your book coming?"

"Fine, aside from the fact that even archeology professors aren't going to read it. The university press says everyone wants to hear about my adventures with a handsome, dashing Special Forces officer in Africa. No one cares about my ground breaking work discovering a Roman fort in Sub-Saharan Africa."

"So, write another book. You know, one of those romance novels."

Kate grinned. "You mean a bodice ripper? Only if I get to rip your bodice."

"I don't think that handsome and dashing Special Forces officers wear bodices."

"Tee shirt ripper?" Kate said, running her hand over his chest.

Rick picked her up and headed for the bedroom. "Even on a major's pay, I can't afford to have you rip too many of my tees."

An hour later they lay snuggled in each other's arms. Then Rick saw something on the nightstand.

"Did you review what I've written about Joe Flood and the lady archeologist?"

Kate nodded sleepily. "Yeah. The corrections are in red ink."

The book was about a retired Special Forces NCO who had taken a job with a beautiful archeologist on a dangerous dig. Most of the corrections concerned archeology. One did not.

Rick read that one out loud. "I should spend several pages describing archeologist Nikki Heat's great beauty, brains, courage, knowledge, sex appeal, toughness…." Rick looked at Kate's smiling face. "Maybe I should just spend the entire book describing Nikki?"

"You could do that. I hate it that I have to go over to the coast and start my new dig and you'll be here. You'll come ever every time you can, right? On the weekends?"

Rick did his best to look thoughtful. "I might be able to go with you and stay for a bit when you go tomorrow."

"How long?" Kate said, sitting up and smiling.

"Only about a hundred and twenty days."

"WHAT!" Kate screamed. "One hundred and twenty days? Are you serious?"

Rick explained how he had gotten all that time away from the Army.

Kate slapped his chest. "You stinker! You could have told me the second you came in, but you made me wait and feel terrible that I'd be missing you for so long. You owe me, Major Richard Rodgers. You owe me big time."

"So what can I do to make up for this?"

Kate spread her long, lithe legs. "Guess."

The very next day Rick drove the big recreational vehicle that Kate had rented to the site of the dig.

"This is it?" He said, pulling onto an open, grassy space on a peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic.

"This is it, Queenstown Point. It's all public land, so we had no trouble getting permission to dig here. The shoreline has moved back and forth since the Revolutionary War era, but except for the wetland to the north of us, it's all above water. The little town of Queenstown should be right about here." Kate tapped her foot on the ground.

"How do you know it's here?" Rick asked, always interested in Kate's work.

"The Royal Navy, back in the day, was able to establish the latitude and longitude of Queenstown very accurately. Compared to modern GPS readings, they weren't off by hardly anything at all. Plus, we used ground penetrating radar from an airplane to check the area out. This is where the town was. And still is, under our feet."

Rick nodded. "Okay, next question. I can understand that African-American slaves would have been more than happy to flee from their Patriot masters if the British promised them their freedom, but how did this end up as a port for British privateers? The Brits had the biggest and most powerful navy on Earth back then. Why would they need privateers?"

Kate smiled. "Ah, logistics, my dear Major Rodgers, logistics."

"Logistics, my dear Doctor Beckett?"

"You have to remember what transportation was like more than two hundred plus years ago. Roads, where there were any, were basically dirt tracks that turned into seas of mud when it rained. A wagon would be lucky to make ten miles a day over the roads and carry no more than a ton of supplies. And that required a lot of mules or oxen. They didn't use horses to pull wagons that much. But, a sailing ship could take many tons of supplies, sail day and night, while the mules or oxen had to rest at night, and they could cover five miles in an hour. Naturally, people and goods went by sea whenever they could. Most of the population lived near the coast, or along navigable rivers back then."

"And why weren't all of these ships caught by the Royal Navy?" Rick asked.

"The big ones were. So, people started sailing in smaller craft that could hug the coast, staying in shallower waters where the big Royal Navy ships couldn't sail for fear of going aground. Even the Royal Navy didn't have enough small ships to stop hundreds of those small Yankee ships, so they issued letters of marque and reprisal. That is, they authorized private citizens to fit out a ship and go capture His Majesty's enemy's ships. The privateers, if successful, could capture a nice valuable ship and its cargo."

"And those British privateers operated out of Queenstown with crews of ex-slaves?" Rick concluded.

"That they did, Major Rodgers. I think you have the makings of a fine archeologist."

"Only because I have such a good professor."

"And we have company." Kate said, looking over Rick's shoulder.

The company came in a large SUV that parked right behind their RV. Three African-Americans got out. One was tall and well dressed, the other was an equally well dressed woman and the third was rather chubby and not as well dressed.

"Congressman Johnson!" Kate cried and went to meet him. Rick followed along.

"Doctor Beckett. I see you're here already. When is the rest of the dig crew coming?"

"They should start arriving tomorrow." Kate took Rick's arm. "May I introduce my boyfriend, Rick Rodgers? Rick, this is Congressman Sam Johnson. He did a lot of the heavy political lifting in Washington, DC to get the grant to do this."

"Doctor Beckett is being too modest. She could have done it all on her own, I'm sure. But I would have been interested anyway. According to my family's genealogy, they fled to Queenstown back in the day." Congressman Johnson frowned for a moment. "Wait. Rick Rodgers? Major Rick Rodgers? The Special Forces officer hero?"

Before Rick could say a word, Johnson pulled the young woman forward. "Cynthia, get a photo of the three of us, please. No politician can possibly resist having his picture taken with a hero and a beautiful woman. Oh, where are my manners? This is Cynthia Andrews, my media consultant and that's my chief of staff, Gordon Miller."

Cynthia was busy taking photos with her cell phone. "You know, instead of having you in the middle, Sam, they should be standing together."

"Of course. Of course." Sam said, moving away.

"Now, smile and look happy."

Kate did better than that, she put her arms around Rick's neck and kissed him.

Miller cleared his throat. "Congressman, we need to get to the meeting. We only have thirty-five minutes to get there."

Johnson sighed. "Good old Gordon. He always keeps me on my toes. But don't worry, Doctor Beckett, I'll be back."

"You do that and please call me Kate."

"Of course, Kate." Johnson said as both of his people took an arm and headed for their vehicle.


	2. Chapter 2

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"What's next?" Rick asked as the SUV pulled away.

"Maps."

"Maps?"

"Maps. We have maps made by the British during the Revolution, modern maps, satellite maps and the maps made by the ground penetrating radar. I want you to know this area as well as I do."

Rick soon discovered that Kate was very good with maps. Of course, Rick was very good with maps himself. They worked into the late afternoon and then the two of them cooked dinner. After dinner, they both worked on their respective books.

At bedtime Kate hopped onto the bed wearing only panties and a cropped tee shirt. Rick had on his boxers.

"I have some more of _Flood's Dig_ for you to review." Rick handed her his laptop. Kate took it eagerly, wanting to see how retired Special Forces sergeant Joe Flood was doing on the archeological dig. She began reading aloud.

"Joe couldn't help but notice that Doctor Nikki Heat, the leader of the dig, was an extremely beautiful woman. Joe had seen thousands of beautiful women, but none even came close to Nikki Heat." Kate smirked. "Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

Rick smiled back. "I'm just doing what you asked for."

Kate continued to read. "Nikki's long, lithe and toned legs were perfect, as was her spectacularly rounded, firm perfect ass." She giggled. "And her pert and perky D cup boobs were straining against her skin tight, soaking wet tee shirt, and as Nikki never wore a bra her…."

Kate glared at Rick. "Nikki does not have D cup boobs. And she would not go braless in a skin tight, wet tee shirt."

"Of course, she does. See? It's right there."

"Nikki is not some top-heavy bimbo, Major Rodgers. She's me."

"She's based on you, but she's not you. Nikki went to Harvard, you went to Stanford. Your parents are college professors while Nikki's are…"

"Do you want me to erase everything you've written so far?" Kate said, her finger hovering over the "delete" key.

Rick shook his head and tried to keep from laughing. "I'll delete the offending words, Dear Doctor Beckett. Do you mind if I keep in the parts about Nikki's great legs and ass?"

'Fine, but you're going to have to be extremely nice to me tonight."

"How nice?" Rick asked innocently.

Kate pushed her panties off and pulled off her tee. "Get your tongue to work, Rodgers, and I'll tell you when you're done."

The Moon had gone down and Rick and Kate were sound asleep in their bed. At the sound of the first shot, Rick rolled out of bed, taking Kate with him. He rolled over so that he was on top of her, hopefully protecting her.

"Nightmare?" Kate asked.

"Someone's shooting at us."

"You were dreaming, Rick. Go back to sleep and…."

Two more shots rang out, followed by a third. A voice yelled at them.

"Go back up north where you belong, you damned nigger lovers."

"I'm going outside." Rick said, starting to crawl to the door.

"No. You don't have a gun. You could be killed."

"I'm going anyway."

"Stark naked?" Kate pointed out.

"Yes. Stark naked."

"Then I'm going with you."

"Without a bra?"

"If I have to."

Then they heard the sound of a car's engine and the sound of tires spinning on gravel.

"He's gone. "Rick said, grabbing a flashlight.

"He may not be gone. We need to put on some clothes. I am not going to be found dead, stark naked with my nude boyfriend, with my pert and perky B cup boobs there for all to see."

Rick gathered up his clothes and got dressed. Once outside, they could see nothing. They went back to the camper and dialed 911.

It took no longer than five minutes for a deputy sheriff to arrive. They quickly told him what had happened.

"Y'all sure you'd know what gunfire sounds like and not a car backfiring?" The deputy asked, somewhat condescendingly.

Rick pulled out his ID. "I'm a major in the US Army Special Forces and I damned well know what gunfire sounds like."

After that, the deputy was more polite.

"You say your vehicle wasn't hit?" The deputy said as he checked the camper with his flashlight.

"No, I'd say the rounds went over us."

The deputy shined his light towards the ocean.

"I'm betting that your shooter made damned sure his rounds went into the ocean. No way we'll ever find 'em. I'll have the crime scene boys come out tomorrow when it's light. Can't see nothin' now. Y'all have a good evening."

The Crime Scene crew showed up at dawn, but didn't find much.

"We found some place over on Bellarmine Road that looks like someone scattered the gravel in a big hurry. That probably means your shooter shot from Old Man Tucker's Swamp." He gestured with his chin to the wetlands to the north.

"Any chance it was old man Tucker?" Rick asked.

"Seein' as how he's been dead for some fifty years, I doubt it."

Just as the crime scene crew was leaving, Ron Fields showed up. He got out of his car carrying one of Rick's 12 gauge shotguns and two 1911A1 Colt automatic pistols with holsters and pistol belts. And lots of ammo.

"Why did you bring two Colts, Ron?" Rick asked.

Ron looked puzzled. "Kate called me just after you did and told me you'd forgotten to ask me to bring a pistol for her."

Rick turned to Kate. "I forgot?"

Kate shrugged. "I overheard you this morning. You must have forgotten since you didn't ask Ron to bring one for me." Hoping to change the subject, she asked. "Is it legal for us to be armed?"

"North Carolina is what they call a permissive open carry state. You can openly carry a firearm without the necessity of a permit. And now to get back to you carrying a gun. I let you carry an M4 in Niger because things were very dangerous, but I only had ten or fifteen minutes to try to teach you how to shoot."

"And who says I don't already know how to shoot?" Kate shot back.

"Doctor Beckett, the New York archeologist, who grew up on a college campus knows how to shoot?"

"Yes!" Kate said with a glare.

"Okay, let's see you shoot." He grabbed both Colts and headed for the ocean. "Okay, see those rocks to out left? At the far end there's a light colored rock that's…"

Rick got no further when Kate shot, hitting the rock and knocking a piece off of it.

"Okay, now how about the grey rock to the right on top…"

Kate fired again, knocking the rock into the water.

Rick turned around to face a smiling Kate.

"Okay, what aren't you telling me, Kate?"

"My dad started out as a history professor and his specialization was the American Civil War. He joined one of the Civil War reenactment groups, the 69th New York Volunteer Infantry, the Fighting Irish. I was taught to shoot when I was a teenager by a retired US Army infantryman and by a Boston cop. I started with the Colt 1851 Navy revolver, then an 1858 Remington, and then a copy of the Henry rifle. And I'm pretty good, aren't I?"

Rick smiled. "You're not just good, Kate, you're spectacular."

Kate leaned up and kissed him.

"But," He went on, "you need to know when and who _not_ to shoot. So, stay close to me if there's any danger."

"Rick?" Ron Fields called out. "There's another police car here."

Rick and Kate walked back to the RV to find Ron talking to a plain clothes cop. He had on a semi-uniform tan suit with a white Stetson. A badge and a pistol were on his belt.

"Ah, sheriff." Ron said. "These are my friends Major Rick Rodgers and Doctor Kate Beckett. "

The man held out his hand. "Sheriff Emory Bloodstone, at your service, sir and ma'am. When Deputy Macon told me you'd had some trouble out here, I just had to drop by myself and have a look. I see you're all loaded for bear." He gestured to the guns the three held.

"I'm kind of used to looking after myself and mine." Rick said, wondering how the sheriff would take that.

''Just fine, Major Rodgers, just remember that you're not downrange any more."

"I will."

Bloodstone rubbed his forehead. "I'm thinking that your shooter was some damned white trash peckerwood that hasn't realized this is the 21st century. There's one that lives not too far from here. I'll pay him a visit once I leave here." Bloodstone laughed. "At least it wasn't someone trying to chase you away from the treasure. Not this far north."

"Treasure?" All three said at once.

"You don't know about that?" When all three shook their heads, Bloodstone went on. "Luckily my momma is the county historian, has an office in the county library and everything. Anyway, back in the Revolution, the British took Charleston, South Carolina in 1780, having taken Savannah, Georgia, in 1778. North Carolina in those days was pretty much a no man's land with fighting between Patriots and Tories, what they called loyalists, like the people who lived here in Queenstown."

"We pretty much know that." Rick said, hoping to hurry the sheriff along.

"I suppose you do. Anyway, in late 1780 the British sent two ships south from New York City, their main base in the north. They were _HMS Jupiter_ and _HMS Penelope_, both 28-gun frigates. Both ships carried reinforcements for the garrisons in the south, mainly companies from the Loyalist King's American Regiment. However, the _Penelope_ also carried gold to pay the troops and for the general expenses of the British. They got caught in a storm and _HMS Jupiter_ got blown damn near to Africa. The _Penelope_ lost all three masts, but stayed pretty near America. When the storm abated, _Penelope_ was off of North Carolina. She managed to jury rig a mast and sailed slowly towards Charleston. Word had gotten out that _Penelope_ carried a fortune in gold. However, the US Navy was pretty much non-existent but there were a lot of American privateers. They caught up with _Penelope_, but all together the privateers were no match for a 28- gun frigate, even a damaged one. But the _Penelope_ had been damaged below the waterline and was taking on water. The captain decided that he had to run his ship aground or risk having it sink under him. They ran it onto a sandbank and took to their boats. They took the gold with them and about two hundred armed sailors and maybe a hundred soldiers. The privateers landed and roused the Patriot militia. Hell, the whole of North Carolina probably turned out when word of the gold got out. The local militia sniped at the British, hit and run, and wore them down. Finally, a wounded Loyalist officer staggered into Queenstown. He told them that they had buried the gold and the survivors were headed for Queenstown. He was the only one who made it, all the rest died. And he died before he could tell anyone where the gold was buried."

"No one ever found the gold?" Kate asked.

Bloodstone shook his head. "People have been digging since 1780 and no one's found anything. And it can't be here, because if it got to old Queenstown, the British wouldn't have had to bury it. Stands to reason."

"So whoever shot a them last night…?" Fields let the question hang.

"Probably some dumbass redneck just blowing off steam." Bloodstone checked his watch. "I gotta get going, folks. Nice to have met y'all. If you need anything, just call."

That night, Rick slept fully dressed, much to Kate's displeasure, and kept his weapons close at hand. Nothing happened.

The next morning as they were putting the breakfast dishes away, they heard a vehicle coming.

"Expecting company?" Rick asked.


	3. Chapter 3

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"The students for the dig shouldn't be here this early."

Rick put on his gunbelt and headed outside. He saw Kate grab the other gunbelt.

"You should stay here." He said, stopping in the doorway.

"No way."

Rick knew there was no way he'd ever talk her into staying inside.

"Just stay behind me, then. At least until we know who he is."

They headed for the newcomer with Kate right at Rick's elbow. The vehicle was an old and battered pickup truck, however Rick thought the engine sounded well maintained and powerful. It had North Carolina plates and a Confederate flag flying from the radio antenna. There was a gunrack in the back window with what looked like an AR 15, the civilian version of the M16 rifle.

The man got out of his truck. He was as tall as Rick and perhaps as muscular. He wore muddy boots, clean blue jeans and a Hank Williams tee shirt. There was a stars and stripes do rag around his long, blond hair.

"You the Special Forces fellow?" He asked.

Rick nodded.

"Major Rick Rodgers. This is Doctor Kate Beckett, she's in charge of the archeological dig here."

"I'm David MacNeill, but everyone calls me Buddy." He held out his hand and Rick and then Kate shook it.

"That Sheriff Bloodstone come by my place last night tellin' me that some crazy ass redneck had shot at you folks and called you nigger lovers. Since I'm the nearest crazy ass redneck, he come to me. He didn't accuse me of nothin', but he said he'd keep an eye on me."

"Somebody did fire a couple of rounds by is, but we didn't accuse anyone of anything."

"Didn't think you did, Major, but word would get around and I thought I should come and talk to you. Now, I'm a Southern man, born and bred, and damned proud of it, too." Buddy rolled up the sleeve of his tee shirt to reveal a tattoo of a reddish leaf, outlined in yellow with a yellow lightning flash in the center. Rick recognized it at once.

"I don't hold with no damned racism. Served five years in the US Army, mostly with the 25th Infantry Division as an 11 Bravo, infantryman. I extended for a year so's I could stay with my squad goin' back to Eye-Rack. I served with white folks, Black folks, Hispanics, Asians, Pacific Islanders, Protestants, Catholics, Jews and one Wiccan. I'd have died for anyone of them and they'd have done the same for me. In fact, some did. So, I'm here to tell you that if I ever want to take a shot at you, or anyone else, I'll do it face to face. And I ain't ever gonna call anyone out on account of their race or anything else. Well, I might tell someone like that Bloodstone that he's an asshole who spends all of his time kissing the butts of people that can help him get re-elected."

Rick nodded towards Buddy's tattoo. "What brigade did you serve in?"

"Fourth Airborne Brigade, First of the Five Oh First."

"How did you like Alaska?"

Buddy laughed. "Could get a mite cold."

Kate nodded. "Would you like some coffee, Buddy?"

"I'd dearly love some, ma'am."

"It's Kate."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kate made coffee and the three of them sat about chatting, until Buddy brought up the other reason for his visit.

"Do you need any help on this dig of yours, Ma'am?"

She smiled. "I told you to call me Kate. But I'm afraid we don't need any help. Archeology is a very difficult field. There's no real call for people who have no background in it. Do you have background in archeology, Buddy?"

"No, I can't say that I do. I got a lot of experience shootin' folks, but you got all you need in the major here. Mostly, I run a boat. I take folks, mostly from up north, out fishin' in the Atlantic. However, the boat's engine needs an overhaul. So, I need another job. Are you at all familiar with the other places associated with Queenstown, Kate?"

Kate frowned. "Other places? What other places?"

"As I'm sure the major can tell you, you don't defend your home base by sitting around and waiting for the other fellow to show up. You send out patrols, you raid the other fellows bases and occasionally you have a big fight. The biggest fight between the Queenstown militia and the American Patriot militias happened about two miles west of here. Not much of a battle, just a couple of hundred people on each side, but I've found round lead bullets there when I was a kid."

Kate shook her head. "If it's two miles west of here, Buddy, that means it's on private property. We'd have to pay the owner to dig and we don't have that kind of money."

Buddy smiled. "The land is owned by my mamma, and since Daddy passed, it's mostly lain fallow. She'll be happy to let you dig."

Rick and Kate exchanged a look and then a smile.

"You don't suppose she'd be willing to let us dig in exchange for giving a job to her son, do you?" Kate asked.

"I do think she just might."

"We should go see her. We'll need to sign a contract."

"Perhaps we could take my pickup?" Buddy looked around at the huge RV they were sitting by. "This might be just a bit large to get down our road."

"Then let's go."

As Rick had suspected, the truck ran like a dream and the interior had been upgraded with a leather bench seat and a well polished wooden dashboard. It took only a few minutes before they pulled up before a neat, well maintained, single story house. Buddy hopped out and ran to open the door for Kate, but she was too quick.

"Us Yankee girls are used to doing things for ourselves, Buddy. In fact, we like it that way."

Buddy just smiled and ran to the front door. Opening it, he yelled inside.

"Momma! Major Rodgers and Doctor Beckett are here."

"Well, don't stand there blocking the door, Buddy. Let them come in and enjoy the air conditioner."

Mrs. MacNeill was tall and blonde, just like Buddy. Rick guessed she was on the far side of fifty, perhaps even past sixty, but she looked strong and happy with a smile on her face.

"Momma, this is Major Rodgers and Doctor Beckett that I mentioned to you. They want to talk about doing some archeological diggin' where the old battle was. Folks, this is my momma, Caroline."

They shook hands. Rick noticed her grip was strong and her hands rough and callused.

"Major, I reckon you've been in the South before, so you know what sweet ice tea is. But does Doctor Beckett know?"

Kate laughed. "I may be a Yankee from New York, but I've been in the South before and I would love some sweet ice tea. But please call me Kate.

"And call me Rick."

Mrs. MacNeill brought out a pitcher and four glasses.

"Now, Kate, I do know a bit about the history of this area. As you may know, a great deal of North Carolina was settled by Gaelic speaking Scottish Highlanders, including our family, the MacNeills. And most of those Scots stayed loyal to Britain. Now my momma got interested in genealogy and tried to find some record of our family in the Revolution. First, she tried the Canadians, since a lot of Loyalist refugees fled to Canada after they lost and the Canadians have good records of them, but no luck. The same with the British, no records of our family. We tried the US National Archives and Records Center, but no luck. Now we know the family was here during the Revolution, but apparently took no part in it. I began to suspect that the MacNeills back then were probably selling watered whiskey and inoperative firearms to both sides."

Both Rick and Kate stifled a laugh.

"Would you like to see the old battlefield?" Buddy asked.

"I think it would be best if we asked your mother to sign a contract first." Kate said. "I have a standard contract here. I'll just need some information from you to fill it out."

As Kate filled out the contract, Buddy went to get some old musket balls he'd found as a kid to show to Rick.

"Here you go, Major. I found three musket balls. Two are .75 caliber and probably came from the old British Brown Bess muskets. Now this one is a .69 caliber and is probably from a French Charleville musket, although most of the Patriot militias carried locally made muskets that they used for hunting and self-defense."

"Buddy, "Kate called. "I have the contract all filled out. Would you like to go over with it with your mom?"

Caroline took the contract and got out a pen. "That's not necessary, Kate. I can just sign it as it is."

Kate frowned. "I really think you should read it first, with Buddy."

"Oh, Kate, we may be rednecks, but we know about contracts. Folks make up ironclad contracts, and then turn around and sue each other at the drop of a hat. Buddy tells me the major, that is, Rick, is a good man and if you're with him, you're a good person, too. I trust people more than paper." With that, she signed the contract.

"Can we go look at the battlefield now?" Rick asked.

Kate smiled. "That's my Rick. Show him a battlefield and he'll follow you anywhere."

He shook his head. "No, I'll follow you anywhere, battlefield or not."

"Can we go before y'all to get too mushy?" Buddy asked.

Once outside, Buddy began to explain the battle. "Now Sheriff Bloodstone may be an arrogant jerk of a politician, but his momma does know her history. I got most of the story from her, or from books she told me about." He waved his hand around the farm. "Now this farm was an open meadow back in 1779. The area to the east, back towards where you are, was a real forest, as was the whole rest of the area. Now the Patriots had been trying to get rid of Queenstown for a couple of years. Their militias were not disciplined. Everyone wanted to do their own thing, so there wasn't a concerted attack by all of local militias on Queenstown until this one."

"Where were the militias based?" Kate asked.

"Oh, in a dozen little towns that disappeared over the last two hundred years or so. Now the Black people of Queenstown had a smart leader, a fellow who called himself Captain King, on account of he was the captain of the Queenstown militia company and he really liked King George III."

"He had a good intelligence system: friendly slaves who'd pass him information; pro-British Indians and whites who weren't identified as loyalists. They let him know that the Patriot militias were gathering. He sent out scouting parties, mostly on foot, but some on horseback and in late April 1779, they found a column of about three hundred and fifty to four hundred militiamen headed their way. Now Captain King decided to attack them rather than let the enemy put Queenstown under siege. He put his men in a line over there to the east. Remember, that was all heavily forested back then. You could put two hundred men twenty yards deep in those trees and no one could see 'em."

"Good plan." Rick said, nodding.

"He had a pair of little cannons he'd taken from one of the privateers in port and put them just on the edge of the forest, but all covered up with branches."

"He waited until the Patriot militia arrived. Damn fools hadn't put out any scouts or anything. And, when they got to the meadow, they decided to organize themselves for the attack right there. As they were milling around trying to get ready, Captain King ordered his men forward and gave them a volley and fired his cannons. The Patriots broke and fled back to the other side of the meadow and took cover in the trees there. The fight degenerated into a long range firefight, and muskets weren't any good beyond a hundred yards. The two sides were fighting from maybe three hundred yards away. Nobody hit nothin'."

"Neither side tried to flank the other?" Rick asked.

"Nope. After a while, the Patriot militiamen get tired or started to run out of ammo and started heading for home. By dusk the fight was over."

"Not much of a battle." Kate said,

"Nope, not at all. "Buddy said. "But it was the biggest battle involving Queenstown in the whole war."


	4. Chapter 4

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"Okay, Buddy, Rick and I are going to go back to our RV. We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early, ma'am."

Kate smiled. "Bright and early, Kate."

Buddy laughed. "Bright and early, Kate."

Rick and Kate did a little work on their respective books, ate dinner and then made love. Finally, they went to bed.

Kate woke up when she felt Rick get out of bed.

"Something wrong, babe?"

"I heard something outside." He whispered, grabbing his pistol belt and headed for the door. Kate grabbed her gun and followed him.

"Kate, go back to bed." He whispered.

"No." She whispered back.

"This could be dangerous."

"Exactly why I'm going with you."

Rick glared at her, but she just smiled back. They went outside.

"Flashlight?" Kate whispered.

"No, whoever it is will see us before we see him."

Suddenly, they heard the footsteps of someone running.

"The back of the RV." Kate said.

By the time they got to the back, there was no one and nothing there. The footsteps were gone and all was quiet. They looked around the site, but saw nothing.

"You know if it was a guy and he saw you like that, he'd stop dead in his tracks." Rick said with a smile.

Kate realized she was naked except for the gunbelt. "And if it was a woman, I'd be trying to pull her off of you, Major Rodgers." Rick was naked as well.

"We should go back inside where I can appreciate your beauty appropriately."

Buddy arrived just as Kate was making breakfast the next morning.

"Mornin', folks." He said. "That sure smells good."

"You haven't had breakfast yet?" Kate asked.

"My momma made me breakfast about two hours ago. I had a few things to do around the place, but I could use a little something."

As they ate, Buddy noticed the two gunbelts hanging by the doorway. "Expectin' trouble?"

"We heard someone by the back of the camper late last night." Rick said. "I got up early and looked for tracks but didn't see anything. After being shot at, I'm not taking any chances."

"Let me go take a look." Buddy said, downing the last of his coffee.

Once outside, he got down on his hands and knees so that his head was almost level with the ground. He moved, squinted, moved again and squinted again. Then he stood up. "I hunt a lot and that means tracking. You did have company last night, someone with feet smaller than yours, Rick, and shorter and wider than Kate's. Could be someone out to get you, or just some kid looking to down some beer he'd gotten. There's usually no one out here at night. No way to tell."

In less than an hour the first of the archeology students showed up for the dig.

"Doctor Beckett," said the tall, very slender African-American woman, getting out of a Jeep. "I'm Alicia Chambers from NC State and this is Charles Gordon." She nodded to a short, heavily muscled young man. Rick thought he resembled a young Warrant Officer Reed, who had been with him in Niger.

"Glad to meet you two. This is my boyfriend, Major Rick Rodgers, US Army, and our local expert, Buddy MacNeill."

Having seen Buddy's pick up with the Confederate flag, they nodded quickly, then looked away.

"The other four will be along soon. We saw them in town."

"You brought tents?" Kate asked.

Alicia nodded. "We read your information, Dr. Beckett. We're all set up for camping."

As the two began unpacking their Jeep, an SUV with the four others drove up. They were a short, wiry white woman and a somewhat taller, but still wiry white man. A tall, heavy set African-American man got out, smiling at one and all. He was followed by a bulky African-American woman who looked once at Kate, then headed straight for the other two African Americans.

The white woman walked over. "Dr. Beckett? I'm Charlene Ford, better known as Charlie, and this is my twin brother, Bob. We are so happy to be here. We just can't tell you how happy we are."

The other man held out his hand and both Rick and Kate shook hands. "Mick Malone, Dr. Beckett. Please don't get too angry at our friend. Beta, that is, Beta Brown, doesn't think this dig should be run by a white woman or should involve any whites. But she's very, very good at what she does. The rest of us have tried to tell her that history isn't about race, but she doesn't buy it." He laughed. "Besides, most African-American archeologists are interested in Africa."

"Which makes Beta even angrier at you, since you ran a dig in Africa." Charlie added.

"I'm sure we'll work everything out." Kate said. "Now you should get your tents set up. When we do, we'll have lunch, made by my boyfriend, Rick Rodgers. I've found he makes a mean sandwich."

"And I brought some homemade potato salad." Buddy added.

Buddy watched with interest as the team tried to get settled in. He turned to Rick and Kate. "Now, I'm thinkin' we've got us some real city slickers here. Every piece of gear they have is brand new and they don't know diddly-squat about puttin' up a tent. Think they'd object if I offered a little help?"

"There's only one way to find out." Kate said.

Buddy walked over to Alicia who had been the first to start putting up her tent and had so far made a mess of it.

"'Scuse me, ma'am, but you look like you could use a little help. Y'all ever put up a tent before?"

Alicia gave Buddy a suspicious look. "No, never. I'm a city girl. I guess I need help."

It took Buddy a matter of minutes to put up her tent. Then he moved around the site, helping the others. Only Beta Brown refused his offer to help. But, her tent was up, more or less, by lunchtime.

Over lunch, Kate spoke about the dig.

"First, I need to tell you that on our first night here, someone took a couple of shots at us while we were asleep. They didn't hit anything, so I'm guessing they just wanted to scare us. Whoever did it called is "nigger lovers" and drove off. If anyone feels unsafe…."

Beta interrupted. "We've been getting harassed by white trash for three hundred years." She looked straight at Buddy. "If we'd always run away, we'd have never gotten anyplace."

The others echoed her sentiments.

"Okay, stay. Just so you'll feel better, Rick is a Special Forces officer and has a pistol and a shotgun. Buddy is a combat vet and has a rifle in the back of his truck. "

"He's the officer that you were with in Niger?" Alicia asked.

"The same one." Kate picked up a clipboard. "When the Revolution ended in 1783, the British left the US. All of the freed slaves got onto the privateers here and sailed north to Canada. Most stayed there, some went to the Caribbean and a few, mostly those with money, went to England. However, the local Patriots decided to burn Queenstown down, which they did. So, we won't find anything but blackened ruins and whatever the freed slaves left behind."

Kate nodded towards Buddy. "We've found that there was a minor battle a mile or so from here between the Patriots and the Queenstown militia. The land is now owned by Buddy's family and they've agreed to allow us to extend our dig to there. First, I want to begin two trenches here, based on the maps we have. One is for a large blockhouse that was part of the town's fortifications and the other is the headquarters for the town, the militia, a courthouse and offices for the privateer captains."

Kate walked them to the two spots and they worked out where to begin the dig.

Everyone made their own dinners that night and after dinner Rick and Kate began working on their respective books.

After several hours, Kate spoke. "I hope we can find Queenstown's town trash dump."

"Their what?"

"Trash dump. That's like the Holy Grail for archeologists. People throw away all sorts of things that tell you all about the day to day life in a place."

"So two hundred years from now someone's going to dig up tons of plastic bottles and that'll tell them all about us?"

"Think about it, Rick. It will tell them a lot about us."

Rick did think about it.

The next morning, Buddy didn't arrive at the site until nearly ten in the morning.

"Oversleep?" Kate asked.

"No. When I got up this morning someone had slashed all of my tires. I had to call the auto club for a tow, and then get new tires."

A large black dog jumped out of the truck and ran to Buddy.

"I heard old Stubby here growl about two AM. I thought it was maybe a squirrel or a racoon. Stubby knew better than I did, I guess. If you don't mind, I'll start sleeping here nights. And if Stubby growls again, I'll have my AR ready."

"Where will you sleep?" Kate asked.

"I got me a tarp that'll cover the truck bed. That, and my sleeping bag and air mattress will do me just fine."

They heard another vehicle headed towards them.

"Mr. Chickenshit is here." Buddy said, disgustedly.

Whatever "Mr. Chickenshit's problem with Buddy was, he was obviously well to do as he drove up in a brand- new Mercedes-Benz S Class sedan. The man who hopped out of it had on a well-cut blue suit and highly polished shoes. Rick noticed the Rolex on his wrist. He was tall with a perfect haircut and teeth and a ready smile.

"Hi, neighbors. I'm Mike Clark from just down the road from you."

Rick and Kate shook hands and introduced themselves. Buddy stood well away from the three.

"I see you've met our local complainer." Clark said with a smile, pointing at Buddy.

"People complain enough when they get downwind of your place."

Clark shook his head, but smiled. "I own Clark's Chickens, the largest chicken farm in all of North Carolina and soon to be the largest east of the Mississippi River."

Buddy spat. "He crams chickens together in huge pens with just enough room for them to eat. So, they shit all over the chickens below them. We're lucky that the winds mostly blow either out to sea or inland. When they blow from the south, the stench is enough to gag a maggot."

"And because I do that, Buddy, people are able to afford my chickens. If they were raised like your mama raises your chickens, they'd cost three times as much, or more."

Buddy just glared.

"So, you're Doctor Beckett and you would be Major Rodgers? I don't know much about archeology, or much about local history, so can you fill me in?"

Kate took him around the site and explained what they were doing. Clark seemed interested, but soon announced he had to get back to work.

"You don't like Clark?" Rick asked Buddy.

"His daddy and his granddaddy made 'shine up in the mountains back in the day. Their competitors had a habit of ending up floating face down in the rivers. The whole family has a mean streak a mile wide. There were other large-scale chicken farmers around here before Clark showed up, but there aren't any now. They had some real bad runs of bad luck and now there's just old Mike. He also got waivers from the local zoning commission for his chicken ranch. The zoning commissioners seemed to have more money after that."

"But there's no evidence he's done anything wrong?" Rick asked.

"Not a damned bit, but it seems odd."


	5. Chapter 5

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"Would he have any reason to want to sabotage my dig?"

"Can't see why, Kate. He's no racist, in fact he'll be friends with anyone who can help him, as long as they will help him. His place is about four miles from here. There's no way he could expand this far north. He'd have to have every chicken in the US to need that kind of room. Besides, this is public land, not yours."

"So we just hope the wind doesn't blow from the south?" Rick said.

"Amen, Major."

The dig started in earnest on the next day. The trench they had cut to find the blockhouse found burnt timbers about four feet down. Kate jumped into the trench to examine them.

"This isn't the blockhouse. This is part of the perimeter palisade around Queenstown. Rick, can you hand me my laptop?" When Rick handed it to her, Kate consulted the copies of the maps she had downloaded. "I think we'll find the blockhouse about ten meters north."

The students began digging at once, trying to dig as fast as they could without missing anything important. Even so, it took most of the rest of the day before they finally came across a series of large logs that had collapsed onto each other in a fire.

"Look!" Alicia said. "There's something there. Something metal, I think."

Kate tool a trowel and a large brush and began to retrieve the object. Finally, the rubble on top of it was cleared away.

"Malone, take photos of this so we'll be able to place it precisely in relation to whatever we find here."

As Malone took photos, the rest of the team gathered around and peered into the trench.

"What is it?" Someone asked,

Kate smiled up at them. "I think we're looking at about half of a naval cutlass. I'd guess that the blade broke in two and the people here left it behind when they evacuated. Maker's marks and the broad arrow would have been on the upper part of the blade. Um, the broad arrow is a stylized marking used to designate something as the property of the British military. We probably won't ever be able to establish the provenance of the blade alone, unless we find the rest of the cutlass."

Rick pulled Kate up out of the trench.

"It's getting close to quitting time anyway. How about we have a barbecue? We'll need some meat for burgers, hot dogs, both kinds of buns…."

Charlie Ford broke in. "Dr. Beckett, you don't need to tell us what to get for a barbecue."

"Maybe we could get a little beer?" Bob Ford said.

"Buddy, do you know the best place to shop around here?" Kate asked.

"Sure do. I can get there and be back in no time at all, but I'll need some money."

"I have a credit card for the dig. You can use it. I'll get it from my purse."

Everyone followed Kate back to the camper.

"Dr. Beckett. "Alicia said, "men may think they know all about barbecuing, but for grocery shopping, you need a woman. I'll go with Buddy."

"Me too." Bob Ford added. "I can get the beer."

Buddy dropped Bob off just across the street from the Lowe's market.

"We can get beer at the supermarket, but you'll get a better price and selection here at Jimmy's, plus, they sell some pretty good craft beers. It won't take you but a minute, so you can meet is in the supermarket parking lot."

Alicia compared prices for every item they bought, where Buddy just wanted to grab something and go.

"Alicia, we'll be here all night, the rate you're going." Buddy complained.

"Just because you're not paying for it doesn't mean we have to grab the first thing we see." She shot back. Buddy just rolled his eyes.

When they got back to Buddy's truck, Bob wasn't there with the beer.

"I hope he isn't going through every beer in the place trying to get the best deal." Buddy muttered. Then he saw Bob staggering out from an alley beside the liquor store with a bloody nose.

Buddy and Alicia ran across the road to him.

"What happened?" Buddy demanded.

"Some guys jumped me, dragged me into the alley and beat me up. Three, I think. Two held me and one hit me."

Buddy ran to the alley at once, but it was empty.

When he came back, there was a police car from the town PD parked by his truck, with its light bar flashing. Buddy walked over to the officer.

"Jerry, what the hell happened to my friend?"

"Someone beat on him. I've taken his statement and I got the paramedics on the way."

"Details?" Buddy demanded.

"He said he come out of Jimmy's and at least two people grabbed him and drug him into the alley. Two held him and the third one punched him. He said he didn't get a good look at their faces, but they sounded local."

"Any reason they whupped him?"

The cop lowered his voice. "He said they didn't like a white boy banging a black girl."

"He hasn't been, least that I know." Buddy said.

"Don't make no difference. This kind of white trash crap is bad for business and for the tourists. Damn, but Sheriff Bloodstone is gonna be all over the Chief."

Buddy opened the door to his pickup and pulled out a pistol belt and slung it around his waist.

"Jerry, someone took shots at my bosses a couple of nights ago, then someone slashed my tires and now this. Could be it's all a coincidence, but I don't think it is."

"That a military M9 pistol?" Jerry asked.

"What's it to you?"

Jerry leaned in and whispered to Buddy. "They don't sell no M9 Berettas except to the military, so if you do have to drop someone, make sure you put him down and that you have lots of friendly witnesses. That way, no one's gonna ask no dumb questions about where you got your sidearm."

Buddy laughed and slapped Jerry on the back.

"You know you're okay for a damned Jarhead."

"Well, God made Marines so paratroopers would have someone to aspire to be."

"Hey, Buddy," Bob Ford called. "The paramedics want to take me to the hospital, but I'm okay. I'll ride back with you and Alicia, okay?"

"No, not okay. You got punched in the head so you gotta go get checked out. I'll pick you up from the hospital tomorrow."

"Buddy, they stole my beer. You get some more, okay?"

As Bob was loaded into an ambulance, Buddy told him he'd get the beer. He went into Jimmy's and talked to the clerk, who had seen nothing. Buddy took his beer and drove back to the dig site. There was a barbecue that night, but no one was in a festive mood.

When everyone was through eating, Kate spoke.

"I know this could all be coincidences, but the shootings, slashing Buddy's tires and now this, I'm not sure…."

She was stopped by Charlie Ford. "Dr. Beckett, we all need this experience. There are very few places where we can get experience on an archeological dig in North Carolina. The only other dig I was able to apply for was in New Mexico and I got a form letter back saying they were already full up. I don't know about all of the others, but I need experience on a dig as a prerequisite for classes I'll need next fall if I'm to have any hope of graduating in four years."

"Same here. "Alicia added. "And, this is our history. We can't let someone drive us off. We've got Major Rodgers and Buddy to protect us. So, I'm staying."

The others voiced their agreement.

"Okay, we stay, but from now on, no one goes anyplace off the dig without either Buddy or me going with you." Rick looked around. "Does everyone agree to that?"

They all did.

The next day, Bob Ford came back with a clean bill of health. Even Beta Brown seemed glad to see him. And for two days after that, everything was peaceful.

It was just after midnight when Buddy was awoken by a growl from Stubby.

"Hear something, boy?" Buddy whispered. "You just stay here for a bit. Stay, Stubby."

Buddy pulled on his pants and his boots, then put on his gun belt. He pushed the tarp up and crawled out.

"Come on, Stubby. Find 'em, boy."

Stubby went off at a trot, with Buddy right behind him. As he passed the tents of the sleeping students, Buddy saw two forms near one of the trenches. He headed straight for them. Stubby growled and Buddy could see the two looking at him. They started to run.

"Hey, there! You stop." Buddy yelled as he ran after them.

He heard one yell, "Split up. Run the other way." And sure enough, one runner peeled off and headed to the swamp.

Buddy gained on the other one and tackled him. Buddy quickly got on top of the man and shoved his Beretta into his face.

"What the hell are you doing here? Who the fuck sent you?"

Suddenly, Buddy was being hit on the head from behind as a very definitely female voice screamed at him to get off her boyfriend.

By that time the rest of the people were running up to them, led by Rick and Kate who were carrying both flashlights and their pistols. In the light, Buddy could see he was being hit by a teenaged girl who was naked from the waist up.

"Buddy, what's going on here?" Rick demanded.

"Stubby woke me up. He heard something. I got up and saw these two over by one of the trenches. I chased them and I caught this one. Then the girl started whompin' on me."

"You were going to shoot Teddy." The girl yelled, and suddenly conscious of her state of undress, quickly put her hands over her boobs.

"What are you doing here, Teddy?" Kate asked, smiling at the boy.

"Nothin', Ma'am. Me and Grace come out here all the time to…fool around. We weren't doin' no harm."

Kate shook her head. "Will someone go find Grace's top and bra?"

"I don't wear a bra when I go out with Teddy." Grace said defensively.

"You got any ID?" Buddy said, helping Teddy up. Teddy handed over his driver's license.

"Okay, Teddy, sorry to have jumped you. This is an archeological dig and we've had some people come by and mess with us, shootin' at us and beatin' up one of the guys. We're a little jumpy. Sorry."

Teddy frowned. "Wait one. An archeological dig? Is this the one with the hot chick leading it, and the Green Beret colonel? The big hero? Hot damn! A real Green Beret?" He looked at Rick. "Are you a Green Beret, sir?"

Rick shook his head. "Son, a Green Beret is a funky looking little hat. I'm a Special Forces soldier."

By this time Grace's top had been found and returned to her.

"Um, y'all ain't gonna tell our parents what we were doing, are you?" Grace asked.

Kate pretended to think about it.

"I think it would be best if we all went on our own ways and forgot this ever happened. Okay?"

Grace looked relieved. "Fine with me. My dad would whup me good if he found out I was sneaking off to be with Teddy on a school night. "She turned to Teddy. "That okay with you, sweetie? You're the one that got jumped."

"Sure. Sure." Teddy said. "He's a real live Special Forces soldier."

And with that, everyone went their own way.


	6. Chapter 6

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

The next morning, Kate had a new plan. She gathered the dig members together.

"I think we should take a quick look at the old battlefield at Buddy's mom's farm. Does anyone want to go with him? I need someone who can operate a metal detector."

"I can operate one of them." Buddy spoke up. "They're just like the mine detectors we used in Eye-Rack."

"I'd prefer to use someone who's familiar with the model we have. Anyone going to volunteer?"

To everyone's surprise, Beta Brown volunteered.

Once their equipment, and some food and water, were loaded in the back of Buddy's truck, they left. As they drove away Buddy looked over at Beta.

"You have a sister named Alpha by any chance?"

"Who told you about her?" Beta snapped.

"Just a lucky guess."

"You won't be getting lucky with me or my sister. So, drive, Redneck."

They took turns using the metal detector and by noon they had found nothing of interest.

"Lunchtime, Beta. Time for some good eats."

"We may as well." Beta grumped. "We haven't found a damned thing here."

"What do you mean? We're twenty-six cents to the good. A quarter and a penny. Thirteen cents apiece."

"Don't spend yours all in one place." She growled, biting into a poor boy sandwich.

When they began again, Buddy hadn't gone ten yards before the metal detector started squawking at them.

"Something down there. Something pretty big, I'd say."

Beta grabbed the metal detector away from Buddy to get a better look at the reading.

"Kind of deep. We'll have to dig a bit."

"I've got an E-tool in my truck."

"A what?"

"An entrenching tool. A little collapsible shovel."

Beta rolled her eyes. "Haven't you learned anything about archeology? We dig very carefully, and that does not mean some oversized white boy swinging a shovel."

"When my daddy was still with us, this whole area was plowed and plowed deep. We can dig a couple of feet with no harm."

Buddy ran to his truck and grabbed his E-tool and ran back. After a bit of digging, Beta took over, very carefully using a trowel to dig.

"Oh, Lordy!" Buddy cried. "That's the lock from a flintlock rifle or musket. Keep digging."

Beta glared at him. "Keep digging? Really?" She said sarcastically.

"There's the barrel. Keep going." Buddy yelled as more of the weapon was revealed. "Looks like the wood stock and all has rotted away."

"Damn. There's a rock on top of the barrel." Beta muttered.

"That's not a rock." Buddy pushed the trowel out of the way and began brushing dirt away.

Beta jumped back. "Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?"

"Yup. I had to do security on a mass grave once with the Kurds in northern Eye-Rack. That is a human skull."

"What do we do now?"

"We call the cops."

"The cops? Does this look like some drive-by victim to you?"

"Nope. Not at all, but when you find human remains, you're supposed to call the cops." He was already dialing 911.

It took a half an hour for a patrol car and the coroner's car to arrive. The coroner waved at Buddy.

"Afternoon, Doc Eldridge."

"Dig one up for me, Buddy?"

"That we did. We're with the archeological dig over at Queenstown. There was a scrap here back during the Revolution. I reckon this feller was involved."

Doctor Eldridge examined the remains, sweeping away dirt with a brush to examine everything. Then he spoke.

"You're right. This fellow has been dead for a very long time, probably killed in the Revolution. That said, this man was a human being. He'll be given a proper funeral. It'll be at county expense, since I really doubt we'll find any next of kin, but he'll be buried all proper like."

Beta spoke for the first time.

"Can you tell which side he was on?"

Doc bent down and examined the skull.

"No uniform, so he was some kind of local militia. Just a guess, but I'd guess mixed race. Indian and white, probably Cherokee. The Cherokees were called "civilized" back in the day. Lot of good it did them. We chased most of them off to Oklahoma, but a lot of whites lived with the Cherokee. Most fought for the British, but some fought with the Americans. He could have been with either side. I'll have to take all of his personal effects with the body. That's the law. You can ask the county for anything that might be of historical value."

They helped Doctor Eldridge remove the remains to an ambulance and then headed back to the dig. Beta seemed preoccupied on the ride back.

"You okay?" Buddy asked.

"I never saw a real human skull before, or anything like that. You were at a mass grave in Iraq?"

"Yup. Nothing I want to do again. The stench was unbelievable and when the people there saw what was left of their kinfolk…." Buddy said no more on that, but he remembered.

"Why did you go there? You're not Kurdish or Muslim, or anything. Why?"

Buddy shrugged. "Someone has to do it and I was the only one I'm responsible for, so I was the only one I could ask to do it. If we all just worried about our own, where would we be?"

They drove on in silence, but Beta thought about it.

Once back at the dig, everyone gathered around while Beta and Buddy told everyone what they had found and what had happened to their find.

"Buddy, can you find out when and where the burial will be?" Kate asked,

"Sure. Why?"

"I think we should go to the funeral. We don't know which side the man fought on, but he did die fighting for his belief of what America should be."

Buddy nodded. "I'll find out."

The next several days passed relatively uneventfully, with few articles recovered from the dig, but no trouble of any sort.

"Kate?" Buddy said. "Got some news. Doc Eldridge has released the body and the burial will be tomorrow. I found a couple of guys who can be at the funeral. One's an old Cherokee priest, a Presbyterian, of all things, but he's Cherokee. And I know a piper who can come and play."

"A piper?" Kate asked.

"A bagpiper. Most of the folks around here durin' the Revolution were Scots. It'd be appropriate."

Kate turned to Rick. "Babe, I don't like the idea of leaving the dig unprotected. I'd like either you or Buddy to stay."

He smiled. "Way ahead of you. I arranged for the meanest, toughest US Army doctor in the whole world to dig-sit for us. Ron Fields will be here tonight for dinner and he'll stay overnight. He'll probably think he's John Rambo, but anyone seeing an armed man in cammies will think twice about doing anything."

Kate winked at him. "I'll be sure to comment on how butch he looks."

"That'll make his day."

Doctor Fields showed up just before dinner in a pickup with a camper shell.

"New car, Ron?" Castle asked.

"No. I borrowed it from a friend of mine. He likes to go fishing. I didn't see any need to be roughing it out here."

Rick smiled. "Ron, it's not like you're in Darkest Peru or something. We're having a barbecue tonight. Cheeseburgers okay for you?"

"Certainly. And afterwards, I'll whip us up some margaritas. I did mention I didn't want to rough it, didn't I?"

The next morning Ron was left with Buddy's AR 15 rifle, and Kate did tell him how much he looked like John Wayne.

Ron nodded. "I'll be right here keeping an eye on things, Pilgrim."

Rick shook his head. "Worst Jack Nicholson impression I ever heard." That got a glare from Ron and a smile from Kate.

"Come on, Cowboy. We have a funeral to go to." She grabbed Rick's arm an they all went off.

The service was brief with the minister saying only a few words since no one really knew anything about the deceased, not even which side he fought on. The piper played _The Flowers of the Forest_, a traditional lament played only at Scottish funerals. Someone had notified the local American Legion post who provided an elderly bugler to play _Taps_ at the conclusion of the service. Afterwards, Buddy took them to a local bar where they had a short wake.

"One thing I don't get." Buddy said, downing his last beer." Why bury the man with his weapon? A good weapon was hard to come by. Even if you had your own weapon, you could have sold it or given it to someone who didn't have one."

Rick shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't a good weapon. Do you know any experts in Revolutionary War weapons we could ask when the county releases it to us?"

Buddy shook his head.

"Maybe be wasn't buried. Maybe he was just left behind and was gradually covered up." Kate said.

Buddy shook his head. "No. Critter's would have gotten to him then. His skeleton was pretty much rotted away, but what was left was in one place."

Kate finished her beer. "We don't always get answers to everything. Now, we should be going. Poor Ron is probably fighting off all manner of thugs in our absence."

Rick laughed. "In his mind?"

Ron met them as soon as they arrived back at the dig.

"Any problems, Ron?" Rick asked.

"A pick up pulled onto the road but stopped and turned around as soon as I stepped out with my little friend."

Rick moaned. "You're doing Al Pacino in _Scarface_ now?"

Kate gave Rick a mild glare. "Thank you, Ron. We appreciate you watching over the dig in our absence. We stopped and had a few beers after the funeral, so I don't think we'll do any work today. Would you like a beer? We have plenty."

"Actually, I thought I'd whip up another pitcher or two of margaritas for one and all. Is that okay with everyone?"

"Do you have enough?" Kate asked. "We can ask Buddy to drive to town if we have to."

"When I said the friend I borrowed the truck from liked to fish, I may have misspoke. Apparently, he likes to drink and fish. And he told me to make myself at home."

They had a nice informal party that afternoon and night. Ron told everyone about Rick and Kate's experiences in Niger, which impressed everyone. Both Rick and Kate tried to keep Ron's stories as near to the truth as possible, but Ron ignored their attempts.

Everyone went to bed a few hours after sundown.

Rick woke up at about 3AM. He knew something had woken him up, but couldn't decide what it was. Then he inhaled deeply. "Gas!" He screamed. "Kate, get out now."

When Kate muttered something unintelligible, he threw her over his shoulder and took her outside. Putting her down carefully on the ground, he started looking around the camper.

"Rick? What is it?"

Rick had seen something burning at the back of the camper. He ran over, grabbed it and threw it as far as he could. Before it hit the ground, it exploded, scattering flames everywhere.

"What was that?" Kate asked, grabbing onto Rick.

"You need to get some clothes on."

"What was it?"

"A Molotov cocktail. Now get dressed. Everyone is headed this way."

"What about you?" She teased. "Now everyone will know one reason why I sleep with you."

He looked down. He was naked, too. Both ran inside.

"What happened?" Buddy asked when the two came out of the camper.

"A Molotov cocktail. It was right under the propane tanks and it was lit. If it'd gone off, it would have set off the propane and Kate and I would have been blown to bits."

"I called 911 when we were inside." Kate added.

"I smell burned flesh, Rick. "Ron said coming out of his truck wearing a brightly patterned kimono. "What did you burn?"

Rick looked down at his hand. "My right hand. It's not bad."

"Please step into my office, Major Rodgers. You need a professional opinion as to whether it's bad or not. Would you please assist me, Dr. Beckett? Try to keep the patient calm."

"That'll never work. Nothing excites me like Kate does."


	7. Chapter 7

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

By the time Ron was through with Rick, the police had arrived. They took a report and promised to send a crime scene unit out the next day.

"Not much hope of getting any fingerprints or DNA off the bottle. Whatever was there is all burned to hell now." The officer said as he was leaving.

Everyone went back to bed, but both Rick and Kate slept fully dressed and with their pistols close at hand.

The CSI team arrived just after dawn. Rick and Kate gave them a brief statement and then left them to their jobs.

Over breakfast, Rick brought up something he'd been thinking about.

"We have to consider that what's happened here are not an unfortunate series of coincidences. Someone wants us out of here."

"I agree. But who, and why?"

"As to the why, the only thing that makes sense is the lost British gold."

Kate shook her head. "No, that doesn't make sense. If the gold was here, the British would have taken it with them when they left in 1783. Everyone says it was buried to the south of here."

"Yeah. Everybody says. That doesn't mean everybody's right. Maybe, Dr. Beckett, world class archeologist, we should look into this ourselves. We can start with Sheriff Bloodstone's mom, the county historian."

"Okay. We can do that later today. But I have to talk to the students first."

"The next problem is who."

"It could be anyone." Kate protested. "We'd have to check out thousands of people."

"I know. We don't have the ability for that. But we should think about the people who've shown an interest in the dig. Someone who's looking for the gold, or has some another reason to want us out, would want to keep an eye on us."

"Someone hiding in the swamp? All Special Forces creepy-crawly like?"

"Not necessarily. What do we know about Buddy?"

Kate shook her head. "I don't see Buddy as being a violent criminal and he's certainly not racist."

"Okay, but he has a boat that needs work. We don't know how much it needs. You could buy a really nice boat with British gold."

"And everyone would know who did it once you started trying to sell it."

"Gold can be melted down. And he could move to Florida, the Gulf Coast of Texas, or California."

"He was with Alicia when Bob Ford got beat up."

"You don't think he doesn't have some redneck buddies who'd do it to just to steal the beer? I'm not saying we have any reason to suspect him, but we have to wonder about everyone. And what about Sheriff Bloodstone?"

"Him?" Kate frowned. "He's a cop."

"And the sheriffs around here are elected. He's ambitious and money is the mother's milk of politics, as they say. The same goes to Congressman Johnson."

Kate glared at him.

"Johnson got me the grant for this dig. Why would he want to sabotage it?"

Rick shrugged. "I'm not saying he did. I just want us to consider the possibilities."

"What about Clark, the chicken king of North Carolina?"

"Just like the rest. No reason to suspect him and no reason not to suspect him. He's rich, but who couldn't use some British gold?"

"Just like about half the state. Everyone knows about the lost British gold and I'll bet there are lots of people who'd happily kill for it."

"So, we just keep our eyes open."

Kate snorted. "You always have your eyes open. The problem is that they're always looking down my blouse."

"Can I help it that you're so beautiful that I can't keep my eyes off of you?"

She laughed. "Seriously, I need to talk to the students."

Kate gathered the students around her.

"Someone could have gotten killed last night. And by someone, I mean me and Rick. Consequently, I'm releasing all of you from the dig. That includes you, Buddy. I will not risk your lives. Rick and I will stay here and work on the dig. The rest of you will have to leave."

Beta Brown stood up. "No way. I'm not going to let some redneck bastards bury my race's history. I'm staying."

"Beta, your part in the dig is over. I'm in charge of the dig and I say it's over.'

Beta glared at Kate, then nodded. "Okay, but this is public land. If I want to stay here for the summer, you can't stop me. And if I want to dig a trench someplace, you can't stop me."

"Beta! There'll just be Rick and me here to protect you. You could get hurt. Killed even."

Buddy spoke. "You know, I need a little rest. I think I'll take me a little vacation right here. You have any problems with that, Beta?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No problems at all."

Alicia then spoke. "A vacation sounds like a good idea. Beta, Buddy, do you mind the company."

In the end, everyone decided they'd vacation right where they were. Kate knew she was beaten.

"Okay, I know when I'm licked."

"So do I." Rick whispered. "You scream."

Kate kicked Rick in the shins.

"You're now officially on the dig's payroll again. Rick and I have an idea that all this is somehow connected to the lost British gold. I know that everyone says that it's buried to the south of here, but I'd like some confirmation of that. Rick and I are going to the county historian for a start. Buddy, is Mrs. Bloodstone any good as a historian?"

"She may be responsible for birthin' Sheriff Bloodstone, but she was my history teacher for two years in high school. She's damned good, just don't tell her where I am. She's probably still after me for some paper or another I didn't hand in. That woman has a memory."

Kate laughed. "Okay, but from now on, your job is security and nothing else. Got that?"

"Sure do. If you don't mind, I got a buddy who'd be a help, and his daddy owns the biggest gun store on all of North Carolina. He's got some cool stuff we could use and he's pretty handy himself, in spite of being a treadhead."

Kate rolled her eyes. "He's a what?"

"He was a tanker in the Army, Beckett. If you're going to hang around me, you'll have to learn the difference between gun bunnies, snake eaters and lawn darts. Not to mention skivvy wavers and puddle pirates."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "We need to go _now_."

The office that Mrs. Bloodstone had was indeed tiny, but she shot to her feet and smiled as soon as she saw Rick and Kate.

"Oh! You're the wonderful couple that's doing the archeological dig over at Queenstown Point. That's just so wonderful. So few people these days have any use for history other than the Civil War. Would you like some coffee, dears? And how can I help you?"

Over coffee, they explained the problems they'd been having and that they thought that it might be related to someone's belief that the famous lost British gold might be at Queenstown after all.

"We were wondering just what evidence there is that the gold _isn't_ at Queenstown?" Kate finished.

"Oh, there's all sorts of evidence, Dr. Beckett. That story about the lost gold is probably the only thing about local history that anyone cares about around here." She sniffed, "You can't dig a hole in your back yard to plant some flowers any more without a dozen people thinking you're digging for gold. However, since there's so much concern about it, I made up a list of websites that cover the story of the lost gold. Most of them are Canadian, since that's were so many of the Loyalists went to from here, but there are some British government archives." She smiled. "My, but the British do keep records. There are even some US websites. You two can use the computer in the library. Since this is educational, I'll give you a note so they don't charge you for using the computers."

They thanked Mrs. Bloodstone and went upstairs to the library.

Several hours later they were done.

"Every thing we have here shows that the British force was killed off except for one Loyalist officer before they ever got to Queenstown, just like everyone said. And he died without ever saying where the gold was buried."

"And the Brits made a thorough investigation of the loss. "Kate added. "Losing that much gold got everyone's attention. We'll have to conclude that there's no gold at Queenstown."

Rick nodded. "But that doesn't mean that people don't think the gold is there. Like Mrs. Bloodstone said, dig a hole and everyone think you're looking for the gold. Someone may think that because we have a lot of resources, we might know something no one else does. And we are digging holes."

Kate just shook her head.

Once back at the dig, they found Buddy standing by their camper with his Beretta at his hip and his AR 15 slung over his shoulder.

"Any problems, Buddy?" Rick asked.

"Nope, but we got friends coming right behind you."

Rick and Kate turned to see another pickup truck heading down the road towards them. It stopped and two people got out.

"Rick, Kate, this is my good friend George Grey, and his wife, Sissy. George, Sissy, this is Dr. Kate Beckett and Major Rick Rodgers, the people I told you about.'

George was tall, dark haired and had a wiry build. He was dressed in boots, jeans, a tee shirt that showed helicopters and surfers that said, "Charley Don't Surf." On his head was a cowboy hat with a feather in the crown.

Sissy was gorgeous and Kate was sure she knew it. She was tall, at least an inch or two taller than Kate with long, muscular legs shown off by her very short shorts. Kate guessed she had D cup boobs and from the way they bounced under her tee shirt, she was sure Sissy didn't have a bra on. Her long blonde hair and green eyes complimented a beautiful face. As soon as she saw Rick, her eyes lit up. Kate took a step closer to Rick, determined to let Sissy know that Rick was hers.

To Kate's surprise, Sissy stopped in front of her.

"You have a PhD?" Sissy gushed. "Oh, my GOD! If Daddy could see you, he'd bust a gut. "Sissy lowered her voice and adopted an exaggerated Southern accent. "Sissy girl, don't you go fillin' your head with all that book larnin'. The onliest thing a girl needs to know is cookin', cleanin' an' havin' chilluns." Sissy laughed. "I'm still working on my masters at UNC, but since I teach second and third grade, I have to do all of that in the summer. Where did you get your undergraduate degree? How did you decide to be an archeologist? Where did you get your doctorate?"

Sissy carried on with a hundred questions before Kate could answer even one.

George, Buddy and Rick walked to the back of George's pickup.


	8. Chapter 8

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

"Brought you some goodies from daddy's store. Once he heard about Major Rodgers being here it was all Momma could do to keep him from shutting down the store and coming over himself. Major, I understand you brought a shotgun, so I got you an AR 15 and one for myself. They both have Picatinny rails, like Buddy's AR, so you can attach different sights and whatnot to them. "George reached into the back of the truck again. "Now here's some cool stuff. I got each of you a thermal imaging sight that'll pick up heat from your target even if there's zero light. And I also have some laser sights for y'all. And unless you got Russian Spetsnaz chasing you, they ain't gonna see that laser no way. You can drop 'em as neat as you please. It's what I got on my own weapon."

Rick nodded and looked over the gear that George had brought.

"And last, but certainly not least, I brung along five first class Interceptor protective vests, _with_ ceramic plates. That's one for you and Dr. Beckett, Buddy, and me and Sissy."

"Are you and Sissy planning to stay here?" Rick asked.

"Sure. Gotta help out my buddy when he needs help." George looked at the members of the dig. "I woulda liked to have brung some vests for your people, but Daddy wasn't too happy with me borrowing these. He said enough is enough."

"You're not going to lose any vacation time or anything, are you? We really don't have the budget to pay you."

"Oh, Sissy is off for the summer and she's just workin' on her thesis, which she can do anywhere. As for me, well, the business pretty much runs itself nowadays. So much so, I'm getting' bored."

"George here designs first person shooter computer games. If you give him any encouragement at all, you'll find yourself in his next game, lookin' like you're all pumped up with steroids and carrying a machine gun in each hand, with a knife between your teeth. Kate and Sissy will probably end up looking like twins. "

George smiled. "And I'll make Buddy here the dumb shit that can't do anything right."

Buddy shook his head. "You and Sissy had better camp beside me in case some serious shit goes down. We don't wanta have to depend on some treadhead who needs three other people to help him shoot."

"Jesus. Let some track greaser hang around educated people and all of a sudden he thinks he knows something. Say, did you ever hear about the grunt who was so dumb that people noticed?"

"George?" Rick said. "Not funny. Not at all."

George gulped. "Oh, sorry, Major, sir."

"It's just Rick. Now how about we all help you get set up?"

For two nights all was calm.

Once more Rick pulled Kate out of bed at the sound of the first shot and rolled on top of her.

"People are shooting at us, Kate. Get your flak jacket on."

"What about you?'

"I'm getting yours and then mine. Just a sec." He reached up and grabbed both flak jackets and handed Kate hers.

"Let me pull my shorts on and I'll go with you."

Rick was already up, and had his rifle in his hand.

"You stay here. And get behind the refrigerator and the stove. There's enough metal there to stop most bullets."

He stepped outside, leaving Kate pulling on her shorts and grabbing the shotgun he'd left behind.

"Buddy!" Rick yelled. "Got a target?"

"Damn straight."

Rick heard a shot from Buddy's pickup and then saw Buddy scramble out from under it.

"I got the bastard. Got him good." Buddy took off running towards the road with Rick just behind him, and Kate, George and Sissy following behind.

"Hold up, Buddy." Rick yelled. "He might just be wounded, or even playing possum. We'll check him out slowly."

The man was laying on his back with a bolt action rifle by his side and a pool of blood by his head. Rick checked him for vitals, but he knew it was just a formality.

"He's dead. Now, we need to call the cops." He saw Kate wave to him and point to her phone. "Okay, everybody back to the dig. We need to put all of our weapons by Buddy's truck. When the first cops show up, we don't want them to see a bunch of armed people. Got it? Move!"

The first police cruiser arrived in minutes and found everyone standing there with their hands clearly visible.

"Damn, Buddy. We're going to have to put a police substation out here for you folks."

"Not my fault, Red. That fella was shooting at us." Buddy pointed towards the road.

"Well, I'd best go look." He headed for the road, followed by everyone.

"I checked him, officer. He had no vital signs." Rick said.

"Don't expect he'll have any, but I'm required to look." Arriving at the deceased, the officer knelt and took out his flashlight. "Yep, dead. But it ain't official until a doctor says he's dead." He ran the beam of his flashlight around. "He's got him an old '03 Springfield with a scope on it. I count five empty shell cases and a five round stripper clip in his hand."

"Yeah, and you'll find one of his slugs in my brand new left rear tire." Buddy said.

"And at least one in my refrigerator." Kate said. "He hit both of my containers of ice cream. I hadn't even opened them."

The officer nodded. "We take the shootin' of ice cream real serious here in North Carolina, ma'am. Especially when it's all hot and humid like it is."

Three more police cars arrived, including one driven by Sheriff Bloodstone. Buddy explained what had happened.

"Folks, you're all going to have to go to the police station to make a statement, and we'll have to take all of your weapons in. From the evidence I've seen, I've got no doubt this was self defense, but a man is dead and we have procedures we have to follow."

Kate spoke up. "Sheriff, someone has been trying to drive us a way from this dig since we got here. I don't want to leave it unguarded for fear of what might happen."

Bloodstone turned to the first officer who'd arrived.

"Red, you suppose the chief would mind you getting a little overtime?"

"This is an active crime scene and my wife has been talking about going over to Texas to see her sisters, so I could use the money. Let me get on the radio and check."

That taken care of, they drove off to the local police station where their statements were taken. By the time they all were done, it was dawn.

"Everyone, "Kate said as the exited the station, "it's been a very long night, so we'll do nothing today, just relax. In fact, I plan on going back to sleep."

Once back inside, Rick smiled at Kate.

"So you're worried about your ice cream?"

To his surprise, Kate threw her arms around his neck and began crying.

"Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. It's okay, Kate." He said, stroking her hair.

"It's not that. I thought we'd left all of this kind of thing behind when we left Africa. I was upset and I said something stupid."

"Didn't you hear the cop? Ice cream shooting is a very serious offense around here."

Kate giggled while crying. Then she took a step back. "I'll be okay. I just need a nap. Okay?"

"I'll join you."

They woke up about lunchtime and found that Sheriff Bloodstone had just arrived. Everyone gathered around the sheriff to hear what he had to say.

"We IDed the man who was killed last night. He was William Duggan. Just got released from prison in Georgia some six months ago where he did five years for armed robbery. Made one visit to his parole officer, then nothing. His only ID was an expired Georgia drivers' license from before he went to prison. The only other thing in his wallet was five brand new one hundred-dollar bills and couple of ones. I reckon the hundreds were his pay for shooting at you."

"Do you think he was trying to kill us?" Alicia asked.

Bloodstone shrugged. "I think that's a might light to kill all of you, but you never can tell. The VIN number on the car he had showed it was stolen in Georgia about two months ago. His plates were phonies. He had a whole stack of them in the car. We checked his rifle and it's not in the system. Were asking around, but no one seems to know him locally. We've checked liquor stores, pawn shops, strip clubs, you know, places where that kind might frequent. We also don't know where he was living. He didn't have any house keys on him or anything."

"So that's all?" Buddy asked.

" 'Fraid so, Buddy. I'm going to increase patrols around here at night and the chief will keep his eye on you. That's the best we can do, I'm afraid. The fact that you killed Duggan may scare whoever is after you off. Or, it just might make him try harder. I hope it's the former."

After Bloodstone left, everyone had lunch. After that, Buddy, George and Sissy came to see Rick and Kate.

"Boss, Sissy had an idea that you might like. Tell her, Sissy."

"Dr. Beckett, I was…"

"Sissy, I'm Kate, okay?"

Sissy smiled. "Kate, I see you have a metal detector here. Daddy has one that he takes to the beach all the time. In ten years, he's almost found enough loose change to cover the cost of it. But, both George and I know how to use one, so, since we don't have much to do around here, we could see what we could find with it."

"I imagine all you'll find is a lot of old beer cans, Sissy. The evacuation of Queenstown in 1783 was quite orderly, so I doubt that anything big was left behind. On the other hand, it won't hurt to look. Why don't you start tomorrow?"

They continued with the dig the next day, digging in the remains of the blockhouse of the fort and what they were sure was the former headquarters. They found old musket balls, three horn buttons, what was left of a shoe and a damaged saw.

George and Sissy found nothing with the metal detector. That was not the case the next day.

"Holy shit, everyone. Come and look at this!" George called, bringing everyone over to where he and Sissy were.

"What have you found?" Kate asked.

"Something big down there. Maybe a cannon? Whatever it is, there's a lot of metal."

"I can't imagine them leaving a cannon behind. Everything we've read from the old records shows they wanted to take everything with them and leave nothing for their former owners."

"It could be a cannon." Rick said. "Metallurgy wasn't as advanced back then. Cannons could be cast with flaws in them. The pressure from firing the cannon could weaken the barrel until it burst. They could have had a damaged cannon they had no use for, but still didn't want to leave for their enemies."

"Okay, Rick, I bow to your superior knowledge. We'll dig here as soon as we finish the headquarters trench. But if all we find down there is an old washing machine or something, the beer is on you."

"Damn! We win either way." Buddy said enthusiastically. "George and I can dig now and when y'all get done, you can help."


	9. Chapter 9

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

The two hadn't dug down more than a few feet when another discovery drew everyone back to the headquarters trench.

"Shackles?" Buddy said, scratching his head. "Why would a bunch of ex-slaves keep shackles around?"

"Probably to remind them of where they'd come from and what they'd go back to if the lost. "Beta replied.

It wasn't until the next day that they began to dig up what was now called Rick's Busted Cannon.

"Hey, we got something." Buddy called from in the hole. "It's some kind of metal case. Pretty big, too. About three feet by four feet." Buddy dug more dirt away from the case. "There don't appear to be any handles or anything on it. There's a winch on Alicia's Jeep. We can pull it up if we can get a rope under it.

They pulled the Jeep up to the hole and rigged the winch as Buddy dug further.

"Damn! There's more than one case down here. I'll have to work a bit to get a rope under one of 'em."

Kate looked at the sun. "It'll be dark in a bit. You could get hurt working in the dark. Come on out and we'll get started early tomorrow."

"Kate, it'll just take a bit and…"

"And you work for Kate, soldier." Rick said.

"Yes, sir." Buddy replied, dejectedly.

The next morning, using a pry bar, Buddy got a rope under the metal case and they hauled it out. They were so busy that they never heard Clark and his men arrive.

"That's enough." Clark said. "My men will take over now." Clark had four men armed with shotguns with him. "Everyone get over there and lay down and no one will get hurt. Now move."

Everyone but Sissy moved.

"Sissy, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will if you don't move."

Sissy smiled at him. "You look like a desperate man and a desperate man won't leave anyone alive behind. What do you say we partner up?" With that, Sissy pulled her tee shirt over her head. Her boobs were definitely D cups, very firm and capped with large pinkish nipples. Sissy shook them. They bounced very enticingly. Clark and his men stared at her.

That was when Sissy pulled a snub nosed .38 from the back pocket of her shorts and shot Clark in the stomach. As he fell, she took a quick step to him and pointed the gun at his head.

"If you four don't put down your guns, I'll blow your boss' head off. Then who'll pay you?"

The four, who apparently hadn't been hired for their brains, just stared at their boss and at a topless, well- armed, blonde.

While they were mesmerized, Buddy rolled to his rifle and pointed it at them.

"And I'll get some of you if you want to fight. Who wants to die?"

The four looked at each other and for a long minute no one moved. Then one of the thugs dropped his shotgun. Rick and George grabbed their rifles. That did it. The other three dropped their weapons and held up their hands.

"Okay, who gets to call 911 this time?" Buddy asked.

It took the police only minutes to arrive, four cruisers this time and an ambulance, followed in short order by Sheriff Bloodstone.

As Buddy explained what had happened, Rick walked over to the case they'd pulled out.

"This sure as hell isn't from the Revolutionary War. It's marked property of the US Army Medical Corps and has their insignia on it. Should we open it?"

"That's evidence in a crime investigation, Major." The Sheriff said. "We won't be opening it until we have someone who can properly authenticate it and we can inventory its contents."

"I can see more cases like this down there."

"We'll get someone from the county to pull them out. Now, everyone, we need to take everyone's statement. And Sissy, will you put on your damned shirt or my men'll never get a damn thing done."

Sissy just laughed and shook her boobs at him until an embarrassed George handed her the tee shirt.

Rick wasn't all that surprised when Captain Ron Fields showed up to evaluate the contents of the cases.

"Rick, you live the most interesting life. Who would have thought that an archeological dig in North Carolina could be so interesting?"

"And to think I was dreading doing nothing but paperwork for a couple of years. Now I'm looking forward to it, Ron."

"Time for me to evaluate your find. Care to join me?"

"Why not?"

They opened up the case and Ron pulled out some faded pieces of paper.

"Aha! This is interesting."

"Captain Fields?" Rick said, threateningly.

"These are opioid ampules. From the date on these documents, they're from 1942. Back then most painkillers were based on opium."

"How did they end up here?"

Ron just shrugged.

It wasn't for another day that they found out when Sheriff Bloodstone arrived along with Congressman Johnson. By this time, the dig was surrounded by the media and tourists, held back by the police.

Bloodstone gathered everyone around.

"Clark isn't saying anything, but his lawyers are trying to say be was kidnapped by those four men and forced to help them. But the men can't stop talking. It seems that back in early 1942, at the start of WWII, German U Boats were running wild on the East Coast of the US, sinking ships left and right. A ship was torpedoed right offshore and three men got a lifeboat and made it to shore. Knowing they had a valuable cargo of drugs on their ship, they grabbed a half a dozen cases of drugs, probably planning to sell them and live the good life. As luck would have it, old Buck Clark, Mike Clark's bootlegging grandpa was on the shore. He told the men he could help them sell the drugs, what with his bootlegging contacts. They buried the cases and then Buck shot the three men. He put them back in their lifeboat and pushed them out to sea. I reckon they were never found."

"Why didn't he dig up the drugs later?" Kate asked.

"Old Buck was a mean, vicious man. He was suspected in the murders of a half a dozen rival bootleggers, but no one ever proved anything. However, Buck ended up with a bullet in his head not long after that. He was a suspicious old boy and all he ever told his son about where it was, was that it was somewhere on Queenstown Point. Jim Clark, the son, tried sneaking out here to dig for it, but like people say, dig a hole anywhere around here and folks think you're after the lost British gold. Jim dug a hole one night and when he came back, there were a dozen people all digging holes. The last thing he wanted was to have someone else find those drugs. He just couldn't think of a way to search for them without getting half the state digging right along with him. He died without ever figuring out how."

"But why did Clark do this?" Kate asked. "He was the chicken king of North Carolina. He was rich."

"He wanted to be the chicken king of the South and more, and according to his men, he was what they call overextended. He had a real cash flow problem. He was headed for bankruptcy and he was grasping at straws. He figured if he could run you off, he'd bribe the town council into letting him expand his chicken farm onto Queenstown Point, then he'd bring in digging machinery until he found the drugs and, cash flow problem solved. When he saw you were getting ready to haul something heavy out of the ground, he knew he had to move and move fast. He'd probably have had to leave his chicken farm behind, but he'd have enough drug money to live well. You know the rest."

"You don't know quite all of the rest." Ron Fields said, smiling and stepping forward. "I found something stuck to the bottom of the deepest case." Ron held out a shiny golden object. "This is a British half guinea gold coin, dated 1779. "

Everyone's eyes went to the still open pit.

"Do you mean…" Rick asked. He didn't have time to finish because everyone was running to the pit.

Buddy was the first in the hole.

"Oh, my GOD!" He yelled, digging with his hands. "It's here. The British gold is here. They're here, people. Look!" He handed up a dozen coins.

"My grandpa was right!"

Everyone turned to Congressman Johnson.

"Would you care to share with the class, Congressman?" Kate asked.

"As I told you, my ancestors were from around here back during the Revolution and escaped to Queenstown. They fled to Canada after the war was over. My grandpa moved to New York from Canada for a job. My dad came to North Carolina in the sixties to register black voters. He fell in love with my mom here and stayed."

"But what about grandpa?" Buddy asked.

"He had a million stories, and frankly, most of them were BS. One story he told was about Captain King, the leader of the ex-slaves here in Queenstown. He said King didn't trust the British or any white people to keep their word to a bunch of black people. He went out scouting and found the lost gold. He buried it under his house, intending to dig it up and run away with his people if the British sold them out. By the time it was obvious that the British were going to take everyone with them when they left, it was a little late to say, "Oops! About this gold I took a couple of years ago." He left it here, but I guess he told the story to his family in Canada and it was passed down through the generations. I always thought it was just another of his BS stories. Like I said, he had a million of them."

"So who gets the gold?" Sissy asked.

"I guess the courts will have to decide that."

"That means lawyers will get most of it, one way or another." Buddy said.


	10. Chapter 10

The Treasure of the Penelope

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You may already know I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Following my story _Into Africa._

**This is a sequel to Into Africa. I've tried to explain the backstory, but you might want to read it if you haven't already. Don't worry, I'll be right here and won't start this story until you're back.**

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Someone knocked on the door of the RV parked at Queenstown Point State Historical Park.

"Major Rodgers, you'd better hurry. Congressman Johnson is about ready."

"I'm hurrying, but I'm much more used to undressing my wife than dressing her." He leaned in and kissed the back of Kate's neck. "Why do these dresses have so many buttons? Why not use a zipper?" He asked, only half done with her dress's buttons.

"That wouldn't be realistic. We're supposed to be dressed as people from the American Revolution era. We're here to celebrate the opening of the wonderful Queenstown Point State Historical Park, courtesy of Congressman Johnson and a trove of British gold. I'm your lovely wife and you're Major Rodgers of the Queen's American Rangers. And you look very dashing in your green coat and white pants."

"At least I didn't get stuck wearing a red coat like George and Bob did."

"I wish you had been chosen to be a part of the Highlander company of the Queen's Rangers. Of course, Buddy, being of Scots descent got the part. His legs look very nice in a kilt, but I think yours are better."

"But yours are spectacular, Mrs. Rodgers."

"I am glad that George talked Sissy out of wearing a kilt. No one would have looked at anyone else. And everyone would have wanted to know what the Scots wore under their kilts. In her case, nothing."

"Sissy?" Rick said innocently. "Is she here? I just don't notice any other women since I met you."

She slapped him lightly on the chest.

"Flattery will get you everywhere with me."

There was another knock on the door.

"Rick, you'd better hurry. The King's Representative, also known as Congressman Johnson, is looking at his anachronistic wrist watch and the powder from his white wig is starting to run due to sweat. He can't wait to brag about how he did this all by himself."

"Last button, Ron. Here we come, ready or not."

Rick opened the door of the RV to find Ron Fields dressed in a fine scarlet uniform coat with white breeches and riding boots.

"Okay, Ron, let's go."

"Major, don't you think you should refer to me as colonel?" He pointed to his insignia. "I am a colonel in the King's American Dragoons for today."

Rick smiled. "And it is just for today, Ron."

Ron gave a theatrical sigh. "I had hoped you'd get in the spirit of things."

With Ron were the rest of the dig crew. Buddy, or Sergeant MacNeill, as he was called was dressed in the green coat of the Queen's Rangers but wore a kilt of the government sett, better known as the Black Watch tartan. In spite of what she'd told her husband, Sissy was similarly dressed although her kilt was much shorter. George Grey, as well as Charlie and Bob Ford wore the red coat of the King's American Regiment. The African Americans were dressed and armed as the Queenstown militia would have been.

Rick noticed there was a new person there. A young man dressed in buckskins with his face painted, and carrying a Kentucky rifle.

"Who's this?"

"Major, this a buddy of mine from the Army. He's a genuine Cherokee and today he goes by the name of Waya, that means wolf. He heard about this little get together to open the new state park and decided to drop by."

Waya nodded. "Glad to meet you, Major Rogers, Mrs. Rodgers. I should mention that his Cherokee name is Buddy, which means White Boy Who'd Get Lost In A Forest With Just Two Trees." He said with a smile.

"Just for that, you buy the beer." Buddy muttered.

Rick put his arm around Kate's waist.

"Okay people, the ceremony is about to start. Let's get going."

As they walked off, Kate whispered in Rick's ear.

"I'm glad you'll be at Fort Bragg for the next couple of years. I've had about all the excitement I can take."

"Me too. At least nothing can possibly get us into trouble in the next couple of years. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

**The End**

**Author's note. **

**I do like to have some historical accuracy in my stories such as this. Slaves owned by Patriot masters did flee when the British army arrived and the British did free them and recruited some into their army. They took most of them away to Canada and elsewhere when they lost the war. **

**The British did have privateers, but not nearly as many as the Americans. Doubtlessly, some would have been crewed with some ex-slaves, however the story of Queenstown is entirely fictional. **

**There were American Loyalists who fought for the British and the units mentioned did exist. **

**I'm still working on Into the East, another story of Lord and Lady Castle during the Italian Renaissance. I'm at about 33,000 words and it'll be done…when it's done. I have a couple of ideas for other stories that I'm thinking about. **


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